


lightning in a bottle

by bokeae



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prison, Blood, Cocaine, DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, Drugs, Fraud, Intimidating!Dan, Lots of Drugs, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Prostitution, Oneshot, Phan - Freeform, Phan Angst, Phan Fluff, Phan Smut, Phanfiction, Phil hears voices in his head, Police, Ugh, criminal!au, gore but not that much, prison!au, what are tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:31:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8035075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokeae/pseuds/bokeae
Summary: Phil may or may not have killed a few people and Dan's not as intimidating as he says.





	lightning in a bottle

**Author's Note:**

> look who's been watching too much orange is the new black whoops.
> 
> also my tumblr is [@bokeae](http://bokeae.tumblr.com/) #spon

_They're after you._

_Look around, why're they pushing you about?_

_They want to **kill** you._

Phil's breathing flared up and he looked around, his sight blurring.

"Hearing voices, eh?" Jeremy asked, shoving Phil into the lockers, "They telling you to kill yourself?"

He repositioned the toothpick between his teeth.

**_Die, die, die!_ **

_Jeremy is a bad, bad boy, Jeremy's not good._

"Shush, shush, SHUSH!" Phil squeezed his eyes shut and started clapping, urging the voices to go away.

Jeremy placed a hand on his shoulder and he slapped him away.

_Jeremy wants to **hurt** you._

They stopped, almost suddenly- the overlapped murmurs halted and Phil's head cleared.

Jeremy stared at him.

"Did I- did I hit you again?" Phil asked, staring up at Jeremy.

"Ya."

"I'm sorry I- you were bad, though! You were a bad person!" Phil defended.

"What?"

"You wanted to kill me, right? I had to defend myself-"

"The hell you on about?"

"You're evil."

"No, Phil it's me- Jeremy. Your best friend."

Phil stared at him, calculating.

"Oh. Right."

"Classes start in a few, let's go." Jeremy informed, "Let's go."

They walked in silence.

"Did they tell you to kill yourself?" Jeremy asked, voice cautious- the same cautious voice Phil missed out on a few minutes ago.

"No, they said you wanted to kill me-" Phil stopped, looking scared, suddenly, "Are you?"

"No Phil, I'm Jeremy." He explained.

"I'm Phil."

"Jeremy won't hurt you."

"Ok."

Everything was calm once again until Phil started twitching in the middle of his English test.

_You're never gonna get this._

_They're distracting you, look around._

**_Wake up!_ **

And Phil leapt to the ground, screaming.

"They're here!" He screamed, "Wake up, they're coming for us!"

"Who the hell-"

"It's them!" Phil screamed and even he didn't know what he was talking about.

But the voices in his head said so.

And he believed those voices.

They considered sending Phil away, to a school fit for people like him.

His mum didn't agree.

"Are you...gay?" Phil asked his mother one day after his tenth birthday, when he was sat in the car with a bottle of whiskey. His mum made a noise, blowing out smoke.

"What?"

"Are you gay? Sam said you were- I didn't believe her but then- then the girl in my head said you were."

His mum took the bottle off of him, chugging it down.

"I'm not gay."

"Ok." Phil said, he rubbed his tired eyes. "What does it mean? Gay?"

"It's- it's a disease." She explained.

"Oh. Like my disease?"

"No, no. This is a different mental disease. Fucks with you."

He wasn't that close with his mother.

"Can't sleep." He said, waddling up to her room, teddybear in his clutches.

"Why not?" She asked.

"Voices." He said simply.

"Watch some tv."

"Can I sleep here?"

"Fuck off, Phil!"

And when she died, he didn't cry as much.

His distant relatives judged him on that.

_**Kill em all.** _

But the newly 17 year old just hit his head with his palm.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He yelled, tugging at his newly black hair.

His mum didn't like it- only because he started reminding her of herself.

She didn't want Phil to end up like her.

No one talked to him at school. Everyone wished him goodbye when he moved to another school- the one for 'special children'.

He didn't like it there.

"Don't call me that." Phil said, head down low as he tried to walk away from a gang of older boys.

"What? Retarded? Ain't that what you are?" One teased, he stooped down so his mouth was against Phil's ear. "You're a fucking retard."

_**Kill** him. **Kill** them all. You have your scissors, don't you?_

_Wouldn't it be **easy** to stab him? Just like that?_

Phil didn't do it, instead he got out his little bell and rung it around his ear, letting the sound distract him from the voices.

"What the fuck, wait, stop." The guy said, stopping Phil from walking up ahead, "The fuck was that? Some ritual? You a satanic retard?"

And it was dark and they had him cornered in an alleyway.

Phil didn't say anything, he was trying not to get out his scissors.

"You pretty, for a retard, y'know?" Another said, coming up close, to stroke his cheek. "Ever fucked a hot retard?" He turned to the gang.

They howled.

And Phil screamed.

"Die, die, die!" Phil yelled. He would've fished his scissors out from his bag but there was no time. But his nails were long and his teeth were sharp.

And he bit them until he drew blood, he scratched them until there was dried blood underneath his fingernails.

They were screaming too.

But Phil, he was laughing, he was staring up at the sky and cackling.

"Don't call me that." He said, staring into one of their eyes, watching the life fade away.

And technically, he didn't kill them- actually, he wasn't sure. He ran away before anything happened, he never checked because he didn't want to.

_You're a **murderer** now._

_How does it feel?_

_Wild? You're a **horrible** person._

And he believed the voices.

So he never talked, grief taking over him. He grew paler until he was vomiting.

"What's wrong Phil?" His counsellor asked.

"i-uh-nothing." Phil shrugged.

"Don't seem like nothing. Enlighten me."

Phil huffed, listening to the clock tick away.

"I killed a man. No, three men, three men I killed. I'm a killer, because I ended three lives and maybe- if we're confessing, then I killed more lives too. All the bugs...they had lives and now they don't. Had to kill a rat once, mum made me cut its head off with a shovel. But I didn't kill three men with a shovel." Phil confessed.

They didn't believe him.

"So...you killed three men?" Mr Jones asked.

"Yes."

"How?"

"I bit them, scratched them." Phil said.

"You killed three men with your bare hands."

"Can you die from that? I dunno, there was a lot of blood. Hey, maybe I didn't kill them, they were just...unconscious."

"Phil, have you taken your meds today?"

"Yes. No. I did. The voices say no. I don't know."

"Take your meds Phil. Go to bed, you need sleep."

"Did I kill anyone?" Phil questioned.

"No. It's all in your head."

-

Phil wasn't suicidal.

His murderous thoughts weren't aimed at him, rather the people around him.

He never acted on them, not when everyone laughed at him.

"It's true!" Phil had yelled, looking at his classroom of judgemental teachers. "The police- they're after me, this is why you shouldn't invite them in freely to talk about rape culture."

"Phil, this is ridiculous, this is a serious topic-"

"Yes, yes I know Mrs Red, I was nearly raped-"

"What? You were nearly raped?" Mrs Red questioned.

"Yes, I fought them off with my bare hands of course, I'm sure they're dead- I hope they don't rest in peace, a harrowing experience, honestly. Anyways, the police shouldn't be involved." Phil continued his rant.

"Phil-"

"As Hamlet once said, 'the best way to predict the future is to create it,' and I want to create a future- the kind where I don't end up in jail for murder." The eighteen year old said.

Mrs Red and Miss Trisha exchanged amused glances.

"Sweetie, Hamlet didn't say that. Actually, didn't Abraham Lincoln say that?"

"Well, my point is!" Phil raised his voice, "Fuck the police, I want to stay here forever."

The principal sighed, "Time to go Philip-"

"So, have the police changed their plans for the afternoon? They're going to enjoy their donuts some place else?"

"Phil, they're coming. You can't change that-"

There was a knock and the door opened. Three police officers stood in the way.

"No!" Phil screamed, "You won't take me! It was self defence!"

The police were on guard now. The Principal gasped, moving to calm Phil.

_**Kill** them all, you've done that before, haven't you?_

_**Kill** yourself, that's a fun idea_

_**Kill** them and then **kill** yourself._

Phil clutched at his head. He fell to his knees.

"Nonono, no, I won't succumb to your ideas of fun, I was a murderer once, twice, thrice- not again, never again. Ssh!" Phil muttered loudly to himself, eyes screwed shut. Mrs Red grabbed Phil's bell and rung it in his ear

The voices stopped and he opened his eyes, standing up. He looked at the officers, their expressions of concern intensified.

"Hello! I'm Philip Lester, former murderer." He held out his hand to shake. The officers exchanged glances.

"Don't worry." Mrs Red said, "He's crazy."

And no one believed him.

-

When Phil was 21, he realised that he could say absolutely anything and no one would believe him.

"The FBI are after me." He told his therapist.

And it was true. Maybe. Perhaps.

_Cameras, why are there cameras Phil? Who's watching you?_

_Are you not suspicious? What do they want from you?_

_What's so special about you?_

Phil always edged away from cameras.

"Nonono, don't take a picture of me." Phil said to a random stranger holding out a phone, probably to check his texts.

"I- right, sure, dually noted." They said with a snort. Phil stepped backwards, into the road actually.

He was nearly hit by a car.

But, see, the police were indeed after him.

When he was 21, he had left to find his long lost father- who had been part of an unsuccessful band.

“I’m Phil, heh, your son?” Phil said when he opened he door. Phil’s dad, Richard Lester burped in his face and scratched his greying beard.

“Phil? I- wow, didn’t think you’d find me, here, come in, come in.”

Phil grinned, smoothing down his leather jacket. He went in the crappy apartment.

There were a group of band members, doing pot, drinking alcohol.

“You’re my son? My! You’ve grown to be a handsome young man.” He said, taking a swig of alcohol. Phil smiled and sat down in the half broken couch. The lady covered with tattoos grinned at him.

“If you weren’t my son, I’d bang you.” He said and Phil’s eyes widened. He had never felt more uncomfortable.

“I’m kidding- I- God, I shouldn’t have said that, it was a joke, ha, I’m not gay nor am I pedophile. Sorry Phil.”

Phil’s throat tightened and he shrunk in his seat.

“Uh, where’s the bathroom?” He asked. Richard pointed a bony finger to the right. Phil locked himself in and he cried a little.

_Filthy bastard, does he **deserve**  to live?_

_Cry some more, why don’t you? Fucking pathetic._

_There’s a razor right there, you could do things with that._

Phil sniffled and smacked his head, hissing out a loud “shutupshutupshutup!”

He left, only to bump into a tired man who smiled, apologetically.

“Alright?” He asked.

“Yeah, just- I should get going.” Phil said. The man’s gaze softened.

“I’m Gale, by the way. Made you uncomfortable, didn’t he?” Gale asked.

“Yes, very. Didn’t expect this, really, my dad to be a sick fuck.”

Gale smiled at him, softly.

“I bought this leather jacket for him, you know, thought it was punk rock, thought this would impress him but _Jennifer_ said I looked like shit. She also said I should suffocate him with it, since he left me.” Phil said. Gale’s eyes widened.

“What? Who’s _Jennifer_?”

“The sadist who lives in my head. I don’t know why I named her.”

“In your head?”

“You don’t have _voices_ in your head?” Phil asked.

“Uh,” Gale looked at him, he looks at Phil’s hopeful stare, “Yeah, yeah, sure.” He lied.

“Yay! The _voices_ are telling me to kill you but I won’t, heh, it’s ok, you’re not special. They tell me to kill everyone.” Phil inhaled sharply, “Especially my dad.”

“Well, he deserves it.” Gale said.

“You don’t look like you’re part of his band.” Phil commented.

“I’m not. I’m a his drug dealer.”

Phil laughed.

“And I killed three men.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“Neither am I.”

And that’s how Phil became an addict.

That’s why he suffered from paranoia.

That’s why he had more voices in his head.

And he was caught once, with his pack of heroin.

But he escaped, that’s why the police were after him.

When he was 22, he was homeless.

All his money went to the packs of cocaine.

“Please Gale, I- I need more.” Phil said, clinging onto Gale’s shirt, eyes bloodshot and desperate.

“What ya gonna give me?” He asked.

“I-I, I have five pounds-“

Gale laughed.

“You’re funny.”

“What do you want?” Phil asked, breathing growing rapid. “Please, please I need it.”

“Why don’t I fuck you?”

“You- what?”

“I fuck you, and you get your heroin.”

“I-I, ok, fine.” Phil said.

That’s how Phil lost his virginity, through tears and bite marks on his thighs.

“Heroin?” Phil asked, after.

“I mean, I’m all out.”

“You- what?”

“I’m all out, of heroin. And cocaine. And drugs.”

“But you fucked me.”

“So? Hey, at least you got a good orgasm out of it. Eh, Philly?” Gale winked and Phil was outraged.

_Death?_

**_Death._ **

And death was what Gale got.

Phil stole all the heroin and he started his own business.

Except he couldn’t, he ended up using up the heroin.

That’s how he ended up in the hospital, except he didn’t have money or heroin.

“I told you it was a bad idea.” Phil talked to himself. He slapped himself, upside the head. He punched his head in, he tried to suffocate himself.

_Kill yourself, why don’t you?_

_You have nothing to live for._

But the nurses rushed in and helped him up.

He ended up screaming at them, clawing at them. He curled up in a ball. he looked up, straight at the camera.

“Turn it off! Off, I say! OFF!”

“They’re after me! They’re here!”

And when the police came to arrest him, he screamed until he choked on his tears and passed out.

Prison wasn’t fun, no, he yelled at the officers who took his mugshots. The officers yelled at him because he kept on shaking.

“Stop it! Stop it, sto-“

“Shut up, inmate!” They yelled back, “Think you can scream you son of a bitch? I can scream louder, don’t you fucking test me.”

Phil shut up, not entirely, he was talking to himself, conversing with the voices in his head.

They pushed orange clothes in his face and pushed him into a van.

There was a black man sitting in the drivers seat, with a magazine and pink sunglasses.

“Hey there, you new? What’s your name? We usually go by last names- ha, I’m Washington and you?”

“Lester.”

“Cool! Hey, don’t look so worried, nothings gonna happen.”

Phil was shaking, mostly because he missed heroin, mostly because he felt empty, mostly because he needed chemicals in his blood.

“Why are you driving? Aren’t you an inmate?”

“Yeah but we gotta do everything in here. Saves a lot of money, instead of hiring professional people to do professional things, they make us!”

The man next to Phil rolled his eyes. He was Hispanic, Phil presumed.

“And you are?” Washington asked him.

“None of your fucking business.”

Phil stared at him, lips pressed into a line.

“The fuck you staring at? I’ll bash your face in.” He challenged and Washington flinched.

“Hmm, do you hear voices too?” Phil asked.

“I hear your voice and it’s annoying so shut up.”

Phil blinked a bit too much.

“Are there cameras here? I don’t like cameras, cameras don’t like me- the flash when i’m near, don’t like that- no, no, shut up _Jennifer_! I’m not killing Diego over here! Go away, stop screaming!” Phil yelled, scolding the voices in his head, he hit his head continuously.

“Shutupshutupshutup.” He said and he opened his eyes the second they left. He turned to Washington, “Hi, I’m Phil Lester, are there books in prison?”

-

Everyone was intimidating. Phil wasn’t really paying attention.

“Here’s a toothbrush and your room is here.” Washington said, moving Phil into quiet room.

There was an old man with a toothpick between his lips lying on the bed. There was a bald middle aged man who had grey skin. There was a man with long, curly hair sat on the top bunk and there was a brunette reading a book.

“Huh, there are books in prison, lucky you, Lester.” Washington said.

Lester stood there, eyes wide with confusion.

“Hi.” He said.

“Pretty.” the man with long hair said. “I like your hair.”

“I like your hair too.” Phil said.

“Name?” The old man with the toothpick asked.

“Lester- Phil. Phil’s a weedy name, it’s actually dying out.”

“I’m Lee.” the old man said.

“Ok.”

Phil settled in well enough, maybe. He talked to the one with long hair a lot, his name surname was Taylor but everyone called him Drone.

“Ok, so you have four people you need to watch out for, there’s Howell- he’s a fucking genius. There’s Hatter-“

“Someone’s surname is Hatter?”

“Well, not quite- he’s obsessed with Alice in Wonderland. We thought it would be appropriate.”

“Oh. How do you get a nickname?”

“Well, you just have to have a key characteristic that sticks out.” Drone continued, “See, you have Mendes- but everyone calls him Primadonna. He’s a bit of a diva. We were gonna call him Diva actually but he insisted we come up with a better name.”

Phil nodded.

“And you have Jackson but we call him Jesus. He’s religious and it annoys him that we call him Jesus.”

Phil cracked a smile.

“And you have Fuentes- everyone calls him Hummingbird because he talks a lot.”

“I had a nickname.” Phil said, “They called me crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.”

“You don’t know me.”

And Drone didn’t say anything.

Phil felt that he should be cautious around the toilets. His mum told him there was a lot of rapists in jail.

But he wasn’t worried. He killed four men, he could handle this.

He still shied away when he went to take a shower though, especially since he had Primadonna shove away the curtains- to tell him to “hurry the frick up!”

“Shit man, you’re big.” Primadonna said once and Phil blushed.

“Thanks?”

“You’re a cutie- you new? I can tell, you look scared. Anyways, hurry up.”

Phil did, only because he didn’t want to stick around the cold water and his feet were cold on the dirty tiles.

“Why no slipper? Boy, you need goddamn slippers, there’s weird fungus around here.”

“Can I borrow yours?

Primadonna howled out laughing.

“This is prison not Girl Scouts, get your own.”

Drone said he could get some from the commissary.

“I don’t have money.” Phil said.

“Well, in a few weeks you’re gonna get a permanent dorm and a job.”

“Job?”

“Well, you gonna help around here. You not gonna get much money- a few pence but still.”

“Ok. Do you have slippers?”

“Ain’t no one giving you slippers, Lester. This is prison not Girl Scouts.”

Someone did give Phil slippers- or, one slipper.

When Phil was assigned to an actual dorm, he ended up bunked with Howell.

And he was warned against him.

“Mad, mad clever is Howell. Boy, how he ended up here, we’ll never know.”

Howell, he didn’t look dangerous.

“What’s his first name?” Phil asked.

“He has a first name?” Primadonna asked, curling his hair.

Howell was engrossed in a book- Phil noticed he had different uniform. Instead of bright orange, he wore a grey hoodie and army green khakis.

Unlike Drone, he looked good.

Phil felt like a highlighter, compared to him.

He looked up, eyebrow arched.

“What do you want?” He asked.

“Your attention,” Phil said, “Are we allowed to trade uniforms? I look like a highlighter.”

“You think I want to look like a highlighter?”

“Maybe. You’re reading the book upside down.”

“I’m practicing. The art of upside down reading.” Howell sighed.

“Ok.”

“I have a lot of time to spare. Who are you?” Howell asked.

“Lester, I guess, everyone uses surnames but then there are people who uses nicknames which is cool. Everyone gets cool nicknames, Drone, Hatter- well Hatter is a bit nutty, maybe if he had a hat collection it would make more sense now- shut up _Sarah_! I’m talking to Howell- no, I’m not going to kill him.”

Howell’s face scrunched up.

Phil started hitting himself, he tugged his hair and it was amusing to watch but his temple was beginning to bruise.

“Yikes, ok, calm the fuck down.” Howell said, reaching out to touched his wrist.

_Why is he touching you?_

_Are you gay Phil? Ain’t it a **disease**?_

_You got two diseases? Gale fucked you- remember?_

Phil grabbed Dan’s forearms and pinned him down to the bed.

“Don’t.” He hissed, “Don’t do anything.”

“You triggered or something.”

“Very.”

Phil cried a lot, Howell threw a slipper at him, in the middle of the night.

“Shut the fuck up.” Howell said. Phil kept the slipper, for the future.

Phil used it, when he went to take a shower, he balanced both feet on top of the slipper, skilfully.

Primadonna laughed.

“Fucking nutter.” He giggled, as he shaved his face.

Phil thought he was being sneaky, he thought. Howell didn’t know- he would have killed Phil by now.

But Howell knew, he laughed when he saw Phil hide the one, black slipper behind his pillow.

“Idiot.” He said but he let Phil keep it.

Howell was rich- outside prison- he had a lot of money left in his commissary. He bought another one slipper.

“One? Don’t you want a pair?” Lee asked.

“Nah, just need one. For the left foot.” Howell said, brushing his straightened hair away.

“Um, alright, ok.”

Phil was surprised when he found Howell with both his slippers.

“Got a foot fetish or something?” Howell asked.

“Huh? No, no no, neck fetish, maybe.” Phil said. When Howell looked away, he looked under his pillow, for the slipper.

It was still there.

Phil was sure he was losing his mind.

-

“Can you stop crying, for goodness sake.” Howell snapped.

“Excuse me, I’m having a bit of a crisis here.” Phil sighed, pinching his nose.

“What’s up?”

“I- I think I can see the dead.”

“The fuck? What makes you think that?” Howell asked.

“I- ok come here.” Phil beckoned him closer. Howell sighed and put his book away. He moved to the opposite bed. “Ok, so um, I have this friend, right? He lost his- he lost something.”

Howell nodded.

“Yes, but I have the thing he lost.”

“What, you stole it?”

“No, I’m not criminal.”

“You’re in prison.”

“I- ok, I mean technically I did steal the heroin from Gale but I killed him- does it count if you’re dead? Anyways, back to the slipper- I mean thing.”

Howell smirked.

“So he lost it, I have it but suddenly, a few days later, he has the thing now! But it’s not the actual thing because I still have it and I think he had the ghost of the thing.”

And it didn’t make much sense but Howell was sure he was talking about the slipper.

“And I hear voices in my head too- maybe those are the voices of dead people. They’re always talking about killing everyone, that makes sense. I haven’t met anyone who can hear dead people. Gale said he could but I think he was just trying to relate.”

“This why you’re crying?”

“Yes because if I can hear dead people, why can’t I hear my mum? Do you think mum’s in there somewhere. I think she’s the voice that’s telling me how I’m going to hell. I think she’s in hell.”

Howell’s smile disappeared.

“The thing is, I don’t want her voice, I want her out because I didn’t want her in real life either. She wasn’t nice. Glad she’s in hell.” Phil said. “I’m just guilty for having these thoughts, you know?”

Howell didn’t hug him, he smacked him upside the head and told him to "get a fucking grip and yes, I know you stole my one slipper and you can keep it because I feel sorry for you.”

And then he left.

Phil took his one other slipper and Howell was frustrated, only because Phil didn’t have anything he could steal for payback.

-

Phil liked Washington, he talked a lot but he was good company.

“What are you here for?” Washington asked.

“I- well, I should be here for many things. I killed four men, I walked around naked because I had no clothes- I’m poor you see. Prostitution maybe? Drugs mostly, heroin, cannabis, cocaine, ecstasy…theft.” Phil said and Washington’s eyes nearly popped out, “Assault, I think.”

“Jesus, wow, I feel so uncool next to you.” Washington said.

“What did you do?”

“Hack into the system.”

“What system?”

“THE system.”

Phil didn’t question him.

Phil had a job now, his first job. He washed dirty clothes.

“I feel useful.” Phil said. He felt better, mostly because he didn’t need to wear bright orange uniform.

He had army brown khakis and shirt. He had a grey shirt under too- and a grey hoodie.

“You won’t after a few days, when there’s piss stained underpants that you’ll have to wash out manually.” Howell said. He never did any work, he just sat in the middle of the clothes and read his book.

Phil talked, not to anyone but to himself. He talked to _Lily_ , the little girl who only screamed in his head. He argued with _Penny_ , the French girl who questioned the government a lot. He laughed with _Helga_ , the old lady who bitched about everything.

Howell looked at Hatter, who was laughing at Phil.

“Don’t laugh, he can talk to the dead.” Howell mocked.

Phil frowned.

He didn’t say much, he let them mock him.

He let Howell move right up to his face and spit out harsh insults.

He let Howell call him a “fucked up retard.”

He let them laugh and walk away, forcing him to do all the work.

Phil folded clothes and put them away. Sometimes, realisations hit him at strange moments. A month after his mum died, her death hit him while he was in the middle of taking a drivers test.

_She’s gone, Phil._

**_Gone._ **

He nearly crashed the car.

Similarly, it hit him- how he was in jail. He had no rights anymore, he was a criminal.

And when Officer Bailey shoved him to the floor, it suddenly hit him.

“You can’t do that, shove- you can’t shove me.” Phil retired.

“Says who?”

“The government.”

“Shut up inmate, you’re in prison, you’re nothing.” And Bailey spat on the patch of floor next to him.

And Phil watched Howell cover up a laugh when he passed.

And he watched Drone look away.

He watched Hatter smirk and he realised just how lonely he was.

-

Phil didn’t mind prison that much. There was a little gardening club that no one contributed in.

Phil was the only member, he was the only member the vegetables needed.

He wasn’t allowed to plant flowers, but he was allowed to grow corn and tomatoes.

“Why don’t you grow weed?” Hatter asked.

“Not allowed- where am I gonna get weed from?”

And apparently the cook snuck in drugs from vans that carried fresh fruit.

And he sneaked in weed and Phil started his own business- with himself.

He didn’t have the willpower to share.

So he hid in the middle of his mini corn farm and he smoked the weed by himself.

That is, until Howell found him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Howell hissed.

“Definitely not smoking weed, ha.”

“And you don’t even think to share?” Howell sat down and took a joint. Phil pressed a finger against his lips, telling Howell to shut up.

“I’m a little bit selfish.” Phil said, smoke wafting out of his mouth and nose. He took his joint back, not letting Howell smoke.

“What?”

“I’m not gonna give you weed for free, do I look like a pushover?”

“We’re friends, Lester!”

“Do you even know my first name?” Phil challenged.

“Do you know mine?”

“Which is why we’re not close to friends.” Phil shrugged and inhaled the smoke. “Also keep your voice down, Officer Cyrus is walking about.”

“My name’s Dan, by the way.” Howell said. Phil raised an eyebrow.

“Ok. You’re not getting my joint but Dan’s a cute name.”

Howell shoved Phil over. Small, sharp rocks pierced Phil’s back.

“Cute? I’m not here for cute, fuck off Lester- I don’t need your bloody approval.” He said before taking the weed Phil spent weeks growing.

And Phil didn’t argue back.

Phil didn’t mind as much, he had more weed, he had a cool hiding spot- that is, until Howell stole that spot.

Phil hummed to himself as he shoved corn out of his way to reach the empty middle.

Howell was there, with Phil’s weed.

“What are you doing?” Phil asked.

“Definitely not smoking weed.” Howell giggled.

And that was it. Phil didn’t like Howell, as a person.

He didn’t like that he let Howell get away with things that would normally trigger murderous thoughts.

He didn’t like how his smirk made him stutter and how his shirt hung low sometimes.

He didn’t like how Howell stole his weed and his special spot.

“Leave.” Phil said.

“You-“ Howell stood up and moved towards him. Phil hated how he did everything so smoothly, “Are kicking me out?”

He barked out a laugh.

He towered over Phil but Phil didn’t flinch.

He couldn’t flinch anymore.

“Yes. It’s my spot.”

“Ok there, Sheldon Cooper, you know what? I’m nice, I’ll leave yeah? No problem.” He said, smiling- a smile that looked genuine.

Howell was just really good at acting.

And suddenly Phil didn’t hate him as much.

“Ok, yeah, thanks Dan.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell people about the whole Dan thing. Personal issues.” He said kindly. Too kindly.

Phil trusted too easily.

“Ok, sure, and then people warn me against you, heh, you’re ok Howell.”

His weed was gone the next week and he was beaten to pulp by the people who follow around Howell.

“How’d he get people to follow him around?” Phil asked Drone, looking Howell up and down.

“Oh, mega smart that one, found a way to control the entire prison. To him, it’s like a chess game, yeah? And everyone’s just where he wants it to be.” Drone answered.

Phil had a scar on his collar bone and a fucked up face.

“It’s so cute.” Howell spat, “How you think you can order me around.”

Phil only spat blood on the patch of floor next to Howell who growled.

“Kill him.”

And Spittle next to him stared at him, mouth gaping open.

“Howell-“

“Kill him.”

And Spittle didn’t have a problem with murderer but secretly, Phil scared him.

Phil fixed him with a glare, a hard, steely glare that made Spittle take a few steps back.

“Or I kill you.” Howell threatened.

And he had a screwdriver in his hand- the same screw driver he stole from the workshop a year ago.

Spittle gulped and he ran away. Howell would’ve stopped him if he cared.

He turned to Phil who stared back with intensity.

_Killhimkillhim **killhim**._

So Phil leapt forward the second Howell swung the screwdriver.

He latched his teeth around Howell’s neck, his nails weren’t as sharp as he hoped but he had been missing fresh meat.

And Howell didn’t scream.

He moaned instead.

He had blood on his collarbones and gruesome bite marks that would soon leave a horrid scar.

They gaped at each other.

Phil realised Howell was a masochist.

And Howell realised that Phil was dangerous.

-

Phil was restless, his foot never stopped tapping and his hands never stopped asking.

He missed heroin.

The voices in his head grew restless too.

And he couldn’t breathe half the time.

He laid on his bed frame and he clutched at his hair, tugging painfully.

“What- shit, what’s wrong?” Howell asked as he came by.

“I don’t know.”

Howell crouched down next to him, noticing how Phil didn’t blink once.

“You alright? You’re sweating buckets.”

“I don’t know.”

The littlest noise set Phil off.

He was paranoid, he was sure Gale was coming back.

“I killed him.” Phil said, voice neutral but harsh.

Sometimes Phil scared Howell.

“Who?”

“Gale. He’s coming back, isn’t he? He’s coming back for me. He’s coming-“

And the guards were laughing because Phil looked funny when he had a brain malfunction.

And Phil was whispering everything _Julie_ said in his head and he was screaming everything _Helga_ yelled.

And he had his hands clamped around his ears because at the same time, he didn’t want to hear what the voices in his head was saying.

And Officer Bailey yelled at the guards because they’re useless.

And Howell started questioning what Phil was capable of.

“Did Lester really kill a guy?” He asked Drone.

“Said he killed four men.”

“I’m finding myself not doubting Lester, actually.”

“Really? Doesn’t look much of a murderer. He could be a prostitute- he said he dabbled in prostitution.”

“Yeah?” And Howell’s eyes followed Phil’s trail. He was unconscious, he had a black eyes, he had bruises and sweaty skin.

“I mean, I would bang him.”

Dan bit his bottom lip and traced his fingers against the bite marks on his collar bone.

“Same, actually.”

-

Howell was staring at Phil’s ass.

And he was pretty sure everyone was because he was taking a shower and Howell had shoved the curtains to the side, revealing a very naked Phil.

He didn’t notice, he was concentrating on not feeling the cold, harsh water.

He turned around and nearly had a heart attack.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He screamed and grabbed the curtains, using that to wrap it around him. “Are you gonna kill me? Or try to?”

Howell shook his head, “I’m not gonna try to kill you today. Or tomorrow. Or ever.”

“Huh.”

“You scare me sometimes, Lester.” Howell said. He turned to see that half the people have vacated the showers.

“You scare me too.”

“Great, ok, now bite me again.”

And he was making his way into the shower. Phil’s grip around the curtains tightened.

“What?!” He hissed.

“Bite me, like before.” Howell pointed to the deep scar on his collar bone.

“Shit, why? Doesn’t that hurt?” Phil made a face and softly touched the mark.

“Yes, yes it did. Pain, so much pain but also pleasure.”

“Are you a masochist?” Phil asked.

“Just bite me, Lester.”

Phil sighed.

“I’m not in the mood, honestly-“

And Howell had Phil shoved up against the tiled wall. He slammed Phil so hard that his head snapped up agasint the wall, nearly drawing blood.

“Ow! Are you fucking kidding-“ Phil shoved Howell back to the other wall just as harshly but Howell loved every second of it.

“You sick fuck.” Phil swore but that seemed to arouse Howell more.

He had Howell’s wrists in a tight grip above his head. He attacked his neck, licking at first, then biting.

He was scared with how carried away he got.

He sunk his teeth down and he tore at his skin. Howell screamed at first but then he started rutting into Phil, grinding into him.

And he looked at Howell, his eyes were dilated and water was dripping down his cheekbones.

Phil gripped his hair tightly and pulled sharply. He tilted Howell’s head and worked at his neck.

He went lower, he left marks everywhere.

He felt bad when Howell hit his high because there was blood and cum everywhere.

He went back to the sharp bites and he tried to kiss them better, he really did.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Howell leaned away.

“I hurt you.”

“No.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“Not that much.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Lester, I’m not fucking complaining. So shut up and clean up this place.”

Phil still felt bad, he drew blood.

Howell sighed when he found Phil moping.

“What.” He said, putting his book down.

“I hurt you.”

“Jesus, Phil.” Howell sighed, “It was hot, ok? I get off to shit like that. Relax, I’ve had worse.”

“You know my name.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

Phil still looked sad and Howell didn’t care, of course. He just found it annoying.

“Can I kiss it better?” Phil asked.

Howell sighed, angrily almost, “Gross but if it gets that ugly frown off your face then fine.”

Phil shuffled to his side and dragged his shirt lower. He let his lips linger around the marks. He swiped his tongue over the bumps.

Howell tried his best not to coo over how Phil took such care into this.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Phil said, resting his forehead against his shoulder.

“I’m not hurt-“

“Howell, I don’t care.”

Dan’s gaze softened when he met Phil’s sad stare. His eyes held so much regret, so much guilt- he wasn’t sure why.

“You- you can call me Dan.”

-

Dan visited Phil’s hiding spot again. Phil was there with his weed.

He let Dan stay.

He let Dan smoke his weed.

He let Dan talk about how ugly this prison is.

Half the year had passed and Dan had a soft spot for his roommate.

Dan let Phil borrow his books.

He let Phil talk about his conspiracy theories.

He let Phil kiss his marks again.

Dan decided he didn’t want Phil dead.

Not because he found Phil a little bit scary.

Because he liked Phil’s stories and scent.

“Drone gave me a twix bar.” Phil said.

“Why?”

“Dunno. He feels sorry for me.”

“Why does he feel sorry for you?”

“Because you’re my roommate.”

Dan was fuming so Phil gave him the bar.

“It’s ok, I don’t feel sorry that you’re my roommate. I like you, even though you did try to kill me.”

“Heh, sorry about that.”

“It’s ok, it’s normal for me.”

And Dan wondered what kind of life Phil had.

“ _Lucy_ thinks you’re cute.” Phil said suddenly. “Now _she’s_ yelling at me because I told you. Now _she’s_ yelling at me because I make _her_ look stupid and weird. Heh, teenagers.” Phil rolled his eyes.

Dan smiled, watching Phil fight with _Lucy._

Dan spent a lot of time in the library- before Phil, that is. Now he spent most of his days in Phil’s hiding spot doing whatever.

Dan borrowed six books about psychology.

He spent five hours studying on ‘the voices in Phil’s pretty head.’

He broke four pencils trying to underline all the key points.

He fell asleep three times before finding anything useful.

He drew two hearts on the edge of a book.

He grinned once when Phil sat down across him.

“What are you doing?”

“Research.”

“On what?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“You’re interesting.”

“You’re funny.”

Dan found out that the voices in Phil’s head are his own thoughts being represented in different ways.

“So _Lucy_ thinks I’m cute?” Dan asked. Phil nodded.

“Very.”

Dan was grinning while he continued reading.

-

“People believe what you tell them.”

Dan’s mum had told the eighteen year old while she sewed clothes together. Dan agreed straight away and watched his mum sew in Calvin Klein’s logo onto the shirt.

“People gonna find out you’re playing them.” Dan said and she smiled.

“I’ve been doing this for years, honey. I’m sitting on money with no cops on my tail.”

And Dan tried the whole ‘people believe what you tell them’ business the next week.

He had a quiet drug business.

Jeffree would tap his shoulder twice and Dan would excuse himself. He would go to his locker and set up a deal.

“50 pounds, eh?” Jeffrey said, fishing out the money. “Shit, only have 44.”

“I- uh, it’s ok, yeah.” Dan said and he took it. He passed the small bag of finely shredded and damp paper that he labelled cocaine.

And he was a bit of a pushover until people began taking advantage.

“I only have 10 pounds, shit dude. Ok, bye.” Joe said, taking the bag.

“Hang on, what? The price is fifty.”

“You let Suzanne get away with 20 pounds?”

“Ok, you know what? No, not anymore. You want the cocaine? You know how hard it was for me to get it? It’s fifty or no drugs.”

Dan wasn’t nice anymore.

He was showering on money by the end of the week, he even raised his prices.

That is until Travis decided he wanted to get high.

“It’s safe?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Dan waved his concerns away. Travis gave him a lot of money and Dan’s eyes widened. He shrugged it off and gave him the cocaine.

Travis was high. Very high. On damp and shredded paper. He was high on the idea of cocaine.

And he committed suicide too, on that day.

Everyone blamed Dan.

“But- but it wasn’t even cocaine!” Dan had excused.

“Whatever dude, you gave it to him.”

The police came a few days later.

“What’s going on?” Mrs Howell asked when they cuffed Dan down.

“No, no, it’s a mistake! I- it was damp paper that was shredded, fuck-“

The word fraud was thrown around a lot.

“Dan, what’s going on?”

“They’re arresting me for not selling drugs.”

Dan did a lot of research on prison.

No amount of books and wikipedia pages could prepare him for prison.

“Dan, baby.” Mrs Howell engulfed him in a hug, “The trick to prison is intimidation.”

“What?”

“Make yourself seem more dangerous than you actually are.”

“ _People believe what you tell them_.” Dan repeated.

-

“ _J-Jennifer_ thinks you’re pretty.” Phil whispered. Dan’s little lamps was still on. He was sat up on his bed and Phil stared at him from the other side.

“Yeah? What else does _she_ think?” Dan asked.

“ _She_ thinks that you have nice dimples.”

“Hmm.”

“ _She_ thinks you have a nice smile.”

“Uh-huh.”

“ _She_ thinks that you’re not very intimidating.”

“Is that so?” Dan looked over at Phil. His eyes were beginning to droop. Dan watched his lids fall over his pretty blue eyes.

“Yeah.”

And he was asleep.

Dan really shouldn’t trust Phil. He shouldn’t trust his eyes that always smiled around him.

He shouldn’t trust his plum lips or his embrace.

He shouldn’t trust anyone but God, did he want to fall into Phil’s embrace.

Dan ripped his eyes away from his sleeping form.

He told himself he didn’t trust Phil but deep down, he knew he was lying to himself.

Phil seemed to spend half his time with his head on Dan’s lap.

“Read me something.”

Phil said.

Dan would click his tongue.

“Meet me where the sky touches the sea, wait for me where the world begins.”

Phil would hum in content.

Drone was confused and so was Hatter. In fact the whole prison was confused.

“Didn’t know Howell had emotions.” Hatter said as he chewed on some corn he stole off Phil’s garden.

“Thought Howell just wanted a fuck buddy.”

“Huh.”

-

“You have a tongue piercing.” Phil stated, staring at Dan. Dan raised an eyebrow.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Show me again.”

“I’m not gonna show you my tongue five times, fuck, Phil.” Dan rolled his eyes.

“Then let me feel it.”

Phil thought for a second.

“Well, not me- um, _Poppy_ wants to feel it, heh, and of course the only way to physically contact a lost soul in my head is through me-“ Phil was red by now and Dan found it absolutely adorable.

“Isn’t _Poppy_ like, 43 years old?” Dan asked.

Phil’s eyes widened in surprise.

_Shit, Phil, he pays attention to you, damn_

_Does he remember me?_

_Kiss him, marry him, escape prison with him_

“I mean, so what she’s a cougar and she thinks you’re really pretty…” And Phil giggled in embarrassment.

Dan chuckled to himself and leaned into a kiss.

He relished in the surprised noises Phil made. He helped Phil keep balance when he ran his tongue stud against his bottom lip. Phil seemed to melt into Dan.

Dan liked to think he was loud in bed but right then, he held in all his moans and sighs just to hear the sounds Phil was making.

“Inmates! Off!” Officer Bailey yelled and they flew off.

Phil played with his clammy fingers. His head was bent down, he avoided Dan’s stare.

“So, um, _Poppy_ kind of wants to do that again, uh.” Phil mumbled, playing with the lint on his shirt.

“You sure it’s _Poppy_ who wants to kiss me?” Dan smirked.

Phil shook his head but he was smiling.

-

Phil was shy when it came to feelings and Dan found that absolutely adorable.

He couldn’t help but coo when Phil blushed and looked down.

Dan assumed emotions would be hard. That’s what all the books describe teenage love as.

Dan found everything easy.

He was content for once.

Happy, even.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Phil asked.

“Hit me, Phil.” Dan said.

“ _Poppy_ didn’t necessarily…it-um, ok so _Poppy_ , you know _Poppy?_ _She_ doesn’t like you- ok, _she_ does like you but I like you too. Wait, let me start again, I like you and maybe I’ve been using _Poppy’_ s name as a way to confess.”

Dan pretended he was surprised.

“I like you too.”

Phil kissed his cheek fast, like a hummingbird.

“Happy Valentines Day.”

And he ran away, tripping on things but still.

Dan could not stop smiling for a week.

-

Dan was loud, he didn’t hold back.

Phil’s mouth worked around his cock and Dan was having difficulty breathing. The shower stalls were empty and they had towels draped around the area, for privacy.

Dan’s back arched as Phil continued.

And Dan hated vanilla sex, or anything soft and loving.

Maybe that’s because he had never experienced love but he had learnt to like things rough.

But now- God, Dan could feel love.

And really, it was better than being tied to a bedpost while his borderline abusive partner whipped him and burned him.

Phil’s fingers stroked through his thighs, comforting him, loving him.

And yes he hated anything gentle but he loved Phil.

And he loved everything Phil did.

So he loved it when Phil kissed his hickeys better.

He loved it when Phil kissed his neck instead of biting it.

He loved it when Phil held his hand for balance.

And he was moaning louder than the times his partner had beaten love into him.

Phil hands crept up, palms flat against his stomach and chest.

He clamped a hand over his mouth, beckoning him to be quiet.

“i’m gonna- I’m gonna come-!“

Phil swallowed him up anyways.

And Dan loved it when Phil cuddled up to him right after.

-

Dan got scared sometimes.

“What happens when we get out?” He asked Phil.

“We wait.”

“For what?”

“For something.”

And Dan didn’t question him after that.

“How much time do you have left?” Dan asked.

“An eternity.” Phil said, “You?”

“Ten years.”

“Ten years is a long time. So is eternity.”

Dan looked at him with soft eyes.

“Would you wait for me? If you got out first?” Dan asked.

“Of course.” Phil nodded, “Would you?”

“No, you dingus.” Dan rolled his eyes. Phil grinned because he knew it meant ‘yes, I’ll buy you some candy while I wait too.’

-

There were new inmates, they liked to target Phil because he looked weak.

They couldn’t because Dan scared them and he always hung around Phil.

And when they did catch Phil alone, they teased and poked jabs.

Phil had his head pressed against a wall. His eyes were closed because he missed the voices gushing over Dan.

Now they were back to talking about murder.

And he didn’t like that one bit.

Phil, you realise you have the power to kill everyone here?

Phil tried his best not to think about that.

Stewart, one of the new inmates, took his time sizing up Phil.

But Phil wasn’t listening, he never really listened.

So he ignored Stewart, he wasn’t that important anyways.

His head stayed balanced on the wall as he fought the angry voices in his head.

“Phil.” Dan voice was the clearest. He had been yelling at Stewart, screaming at him to leave his Phil alone.

“I- i don’t like it.” Phil said suddenly.

“What don’t you like? Phil, look at me.” Dan shook him lightly.

“Murder, lot’s of murder in my head. Don’t like it.” Phil said. “They used to say you were pretty and they used to tell me to kiss you a lot. That’s gone now.”

And he went rigid.

Dan hugged him, tightly. He buried his head in Phil’s shoulder and Phil’s breathing stuttered.

“Look at me, properly now.” Phil looked right into his harsh brown eyes that seemed to melt into fondness every time he looked at Phil.

“Everything is ephemeral.”

-

“Dan?” Phil’s voice rang softly in Dan’s ears.

“Yeah?”

“I have a lot of voices in my head.” He stated. His head was snuggled in Dan’s lap. He turned so he was facing up, his eyes seemed wider now. “Your voice is my favourite.”

And Dan laughed because for once, he was happy.

“Cheesy motherfucker.” Dan said, fondness shining through his words. Phil laughed because they both new that meant ‘I love you.’

_Maybe don’t **kill** this one._


End file.
